Once upon a memory
by HaxeOrdinary
Summary: Complete. AR. The not too distant future. Weiss has been in an accident due to his love for Nadia. Now, the team must figure out how to save him without getting themselves killed. WeissNadia.
1. once upon a memory

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a situation that takes precedence at the present moment," Sloane explained, taking a seat near the front of the table. It was four o'clock in the morning and he had called an emergency meeting for everyone to come in though everyone was still, somewhere, in the office. They all had just returned from a vicious mission and were still jittery from what happened. Something had gone wrong.

"Is this about Weiss," Nadia asked in a rather thick Argentinean accent—something that happened when she was stressed out. She had been sitting in the hospital for the past few hours but no one would tell her any of the information she so desperately wanted to hear.

"Yes, it is," he replied, bringing an image up on the multitude of screens to his left. It was of the laboratory that they had just returned from, only before it was leveled to the ground. Nadia turned away from the image of the place where she had almost lost her life and the man she loved. The latter was still debatable.

"As you all know, Agent Weiss came in contact with a mysterious, airborne substance in the laboratory and the outcome of that contact was unknown to us at the time."

"It is my fault. There was something wrong with my mask. I dropped it down into the chemicals and could not retrieve it. Eric gave me his. I should be the one in the hospital bed."

"Nadia, now is not the time to assume blame."

"What's happened to Agent Weiss because of this?" Sydney asked, lacing her fingers in front of her on the table. She was sitting between Vaughn and a very wired Marshall who had decided it would be a good idea to drain a couple of pots of coffee all by himself.

Jack cleared his throat and explained, "The smoke that Agent Weiss inhaled had some mind-alternating chemicals laced within it resulting in the memory loss that he is now experiencing. The doctors are uncertain as to how permanent the damage will be. They do not know when or if he will get his memory back."

"Mind-altering?" Vaughn said puzzled, wrinkling his forehead. "So what? He's having hallucinations as well?"

"Among other things."

"What do you mean dad?" Sydney asked, looking at her father then to Nadia who seemed a million miles off and then back to her father.

Jack rested his arm on top of the table revealing the cast that surrounded his right forearm. It was not something that he had acquired on the mission and thus he had broken it, or had it broken, within the three hours that they had been back in the office. "As the senior agent in charge of the mission, I felt it my obligation to confirm that Agent Weiss would eventually be okay. He did not recognize me and at first seemed all right with my presence there. When I began probing for information about what he remembered about the mission, about his job, about anything, he immediately became hostile with me. It was only after he broke my arm that we determined that the chemicals were a type specific mind agent."

"Meaning?"

Marshall spoke up, "If—I may. I've actually been investigating what Agent Weiss could have come in contact with since Mr. Bristow came to me after his little accident. Mr. Bristow? Are you—okay? The arm and everything? Anyway, you're a tough guy; I'd definitely never want to meet you in—like a darkened alley or after you've been woken up for a nap. Do you—take naps? It doesn't—. Anyway what I've discovered is that the chemicals that Agent Weiss inhaled were not meant for him. They were a cocktail created for one person. Kind of like the poisoned drink in Hamlet. You know the one that was meant for him but that his mother, Gertrude, drank which killed her instead of Hamlet? Not that Agent Weiss will die—I don't think—but he is suffering from the effects of the cocktail."

"So who were the chemicals for?" Nadia asked. It was only when Marshall did not meet her gaze that she had her answer. "It _is _my fault. It was meant for me."

"Yes, Nadia," Sloane replied. "But if it was you who had inhaled the chemicals, you might be dead. As it is, we must pool our resources to figure out what is working its way through Agent Weiss' body and what we can do to remedy it. Figure out how to help him out of the fog. Let's get to work. Nadia, stay a moment?"

Nadia watched as the rest left the room, leaving her and her father to the hum of the monitors. She sensed Sloane as he walked around the table and sat down in the seat Marshall had vacated. She let him push her swivel chair around so that she would face him and looked into his eyes.

"Nadia, I don't think that your mind will really be in this. Why don't you go sit with Weiss but whatever you do, don't try to trigger his memory. I don't want what happened to Jack to happen to you."

"Dad, I can't lose him. I use to think that I didn't need anyone in my life but Eric, you, Sydney made me realize that I do."

"We'll get this figured out. Now, I think that Sydney wants to talk to you," he said, pointing to the junior Bristow who was waiting in the hallway.

Nadia threw her arms around her sister and let her guide her into Sydney's office. Nadia rested on the corner of the desk and rubbed at her sleep-deprived eyes. She felt like she was at the bottom of a well as Sydney asked her if she would be okay.

In response, Nadia said, "Eric asked me to marry him. Before we left for the mission, we were at the apartment. He smiled real sweetly and balanced this little box on my knee. I asked him if he was sure, you know with all my baggage and do you know what he said?"

"Knowing Eric, it could have been anything."

She chortled, "Yes, but what he said was, if you say yes that means Arvin Sloane will be my father-in-law and the woman who put a bullet in my neck will be my mother-in-law. I can handle yours if you think you can handle mine."

"Yeah, that sounds about like something he'd think of. What did you say?"

Nadia slipped a finger under the necklace around her neck and lifted the chain from under her collar. A ring sent a tinkling sound throughout the small, glass room revealing that Nadia had said yes.

"Congratulations, Nad."

"But what does it matter? If he doesn't die he will never remember me."

"Nadia, you can't think like that. We'll get this figured out. He'll remember you. And, if not, he'll fall in love with you all over again."


	2. two sides to everything

Nadia rested her head back against the cold, white hospital wall and listened to Eric's steady breathing. Unintentionally, she had timed her blinking to the constant beat of the heart monitor as she watched time creep ever so slowly by. The last time she had risked a look, it was just after five thirty in the morning which was usually the time a soft knock came on her door and she would find Eric on the other side ready to go for a run. He hated to jog. She knew he did. But, still, every morning he would be there. And after their run, they would end up at his house where they took turns fixing each other breakfast and then he'd walk with her back down the street to her and Sydney's apartment where they'd part until meeting again at the office.

It was…strange to be on the other side of five thirty. And there are two, distinct sides to it. The one: waking up at or just before to start another crazy day and wondering if you'll make it through it. The other: painfully waiting for it to come, still awake and wanting to get past it just to see if you can and see if another day will come. Nadia was currently experiencing the latter of the two and almost felt as if she didn't know which way was up.

Her heart was breaking to see him so silent, not telling jokes or putting on a performance. But that was who he portrayed to the world. Only a few people were privy to his other personality. The soft-spoken, thoughtful, and bursting with energy guy that had stolen her heart side.

She kept playing over and over in her mind the first time they had kissed. He had designated himself her official tour guide around the city but instead of showing her all the tourist spots, he took her to the quaint Mom and Pop store in the next suburb over and the flower shop that they run past every morning now. Of course, he took her by a magic shop and helped her lean a trick or two. Then they stopped at the park to watch the old men play chess and the ducks swim lazily across the pond, the children playing by the swings and the other couples laying around on blankets watching the world go by. It was on a park bench that she rested her back against him and he automatically enveloped her up in a hug. They talked about nothing and everything and he showed her yet again how to perform the slight of hand required to perform the perfect illusion. She tilted her head back to smile at one of his jokes and he caught her in a kiss. It was unexpected. Sweet. Perfect.

Now, she clung to that memory and watched helplessly as he wavered in and out of consciousness. But Nadia couldn't remember having a passive moment; she was a girl of action. Really, it was the thoughts in the back of her head that made her climb to her feet and craw over to the bed to do nothing more than wrap her arms around him. And cry. It really wasn't at all like her. But those thoughts, the ones that made her feel like she might never get the chance to be loved by Eric again, made her be more emotional than usual. Love was like that.

She rested up on her elbow and traced the lines of his face with her right index finger, adding them to the memories she had already made of him. Then, leaning closer to his face, she kissed him with her tear touched lips and rubbed his with her thumb. Was it a goodbye kiss? No, even with all the negative thoughts, Nadia couldn't lose hope.

She turned over to her other side and wrapped Eric's arm under her neck and around her and fell asleep too exhausted to think, feel, breathe anymore.

"Nad? Nadia? Wake up. We've got a lot to do."

"No. I want to stay right here."

"I know, but you can't."

Nadia risked opening one of her eyes to look at her half-sister. Sydney had obviously gone home and changed and looked all the better for it. Except for the pile of papers in her arms, she almost looked as she did every other day.

"¿A que hora es?"

"Ten o'clock."

"Eric?"

"I told the doctors not to wake you. They sedated Eric so he wouldn't wake up and hurt you."

"Thanks. That sounds so strange. Eric would never hurt anyone." She paused as she thought of Jack. "Have we found anything yet?" she asked, removing Eric's hand from around her shoulder and rolling out of bed. She took a moment to find her balance and walked with Sydney to just outside the door.

"We've gotten…a few leads. Nothing solid. But there is something that you need to know."

Nadia felt her blood pressure shoot through the roof as a cold chill ran down her spine. "What?"

"Sloane had Weiss working on a special assignment that he wasn't allowed to tell anyone about. Apparently, he uncovered some vital information pertaining to that research while on the mission and we need that intel immediately. Sloane has asked something that you probably won't be too happy with."

"The doctors, they said something about an anomaly in Eric's EEG. That if we tried to recover it, through hypnosis or therapy, that he could lose everything. Be a vegetable. He hasn't asked for that, has he?"

"No. But he wants to send him home. He hopes that it will jog something in Weiss' mind. He wants each of us to reinsert ourselves into Weiss' life and feed him information, slowly, carefully to help him remember. They need to do it now."

Nadia nodded but wasn't completely convinced. "You said early that there were a few leads?"

Sydney's hand hovered over the pile of things in the crook of her arm as she explained, "Sloane didn't want you to see this, but I think you should. One of our listening posts picked it up a couple of hours ago."

The folder Sydney handed her had a manuscript of a phone conversation in it:

_Voice 1:_ It's been delivered.

_Voice 2:_ Good. You promise this will work?

_Voice 1:_ Of course, sir.

_Voice 2_: Superb. Now, if everything goes according to schedule, they will all be out of my life within a few short days. The girl won't even wonder why she's doing it.

_Voice 1_: Yeah. It'll work just like you asked. She'll start with the fiancé and the tech guy, work her way through the fathers and then Bristow and Vaughn. He'll suffer the most.

_Voice 2_: As I have. Excellent work.

_Voice 1:_ Thanks Mr. Sark.


	3. I'm ready for my close up

I went back and I found the run-ons however they are not in my original text. I swear. It must be fanfiction's site not converting the text correctly. It's squishing all my words together. As for typos- hmmm. I usually run back through and find them but maybe it's my sleep deprived brain that doesn't find them all. Anyway, sorry for the trouble and I hope to catch them all from now on.

* * *

Eric watched the computer geek place all of his gadgets and tools on the table as if he was about to perform surgery. The guy had only been there for a few minutes and Weiss could tell that, although unusual, he seemed to be an okay guy. Well, more than unusual. Quirky.

"So you lost your memory? What's that like?" he asked, as if wanting the time of the day or to know if it was raining. It almost seemed a normal, bland question that was a part of his day-to-day dialogue.

"That's what they tell me. I don't know. I don't remember losing it."

"Was that a joke? Tha—that was _good_. So what's the last thing you remember?"

"It feels like yesterday I was working at my job but they tell me that was over eight years ago. And the more I try to place myself over those years I just get ticked off. And I want to—I don't know! Eight years! That's not normal."

Of course it would be eight years. That's when he first started the process of joining the agency. The first time he met Michael Vaughn. And, from then on, subsequently, all the rest of his targets who he knew and met throughout the years. The same people who Nadia was suppose to take out. The substance he inhaled had a specific purpose:

Nadia was supposed to breathe it into her system which would immediately take control of her brain. When that happened, she was supposed to methodically take out each of her colleagues and never be the wiser for it. Her mind would have been totally warped and everyone would have to pay for the sins of each other.

But it wasn't happening that way exactly. Eric's marked hostility was not his fault. The more he tried to remember, the angrier he got. There was something more there that he couldn't explain but it was like a fire burning away at his insides. Yet something, deep in his heart, was screaming at him to wake up, remember his life, friends, and love—if he had one.

"Eight years? So what did you do eight years ago?"

"Securities broker," he responded, distracted by the contents in the envelope they sent him home with. He plucked his watch out from inside and discarded the rest on the counter. For some reason, he felt an unnatural want to wear the watch as if someone close to him had given it to him.

"Is that what you want to do for the rest of your life? Don't you have any want, desires, aspirations?"

"Yeah, I want you to shut up, Flinkman, and leave me alone. What's with the third degree?"

Eric was a passive guy. He much preferred a "kill 'em with laughter" approach but he just couldn't help himself. The anger just ate away at him.

"My fault, my friend," Marshall apologized, connecting the last of the cables between the two computers.

"Forget about it," Eric muttered. He grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and was questioning how he could lose eight years of his memory but still know what he had in his fridge.

Marshall finally spoke up about what he was doing, "This is a keystroke counter. But, uh, since we want, you know, to count past keystrokes I had to reconfigure it to read past keyboard usage. Now, if it works, and I know it will because, well it's something I made, then past use of the keys will show up as like a ghost image on my screen."

"That sounds illegal."

"It probably is. You're—not going to tell on me, are you?"

"This is nuts. Why can't you just go in as an administrator and wipe out the old and give me a new password."

"Well, normally, I'd do that, but you're working with a nineteen bit encryption key."

"Uh, you know what would be great, Flinkman? English!"

"Oh, I wasn't thinking. You're—not that astute. What can I…? Oh, okay, if I wiped out the password it will wipe out your entire computer hard drive. It'll be like those tapes Mr. Phelps got on _MI_. You know, _Mission: Impossible_? 'Good morning Mr. Phelps.' They did a movie version with, the man, Tom Cruise. Or, at least, that's what my wife says—and he didn't play Mr. Phelps. In fact—it was Jon Voight. Anyway, your computer would :pfft: and you wouldn't have any record of your past life."

"Are you normally like this?"

"Pretty much."

"Do you ever get on people's nerves?"

"You know I asked that of one of my friends once who, surprisingly, you remind me of him spot on. You know what he told me? He said that they wouldn't have me any other way. He's a great friend so he probably lied. But hey, I'm a genius so they've gotta keep me around. Right?"

"Sure. So why would I need such a fancy password bit-thing?"

"Witness protection? Or maybe you broker deals for the mob? I hope that that's not it because I've got a wife and kid and I don't want them to get involved. Hey, that friend I mentioned earlier? He married us. Yeah, it was a rather memorable event. Well, here's the pattern that pops up distinctly at frequent intervals. I think that you'll be able to access your files now. It's one word. No spaces. Good Luck." Marshall said as he handed Weiss a piece of paper.

"LaSantos? The Saints? That's a weird password."

"Maybe it's someone's name," Marshall suggested as he began to clean up his things.

"La Santos?" Eric whispered trying to recall anything from his mind. What he remembered surprised him.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't—I remember something," Weiss said quietly as he walked over to his living room. "I was sitting on the floor watching it rain. No, it was pouring. And I was sitting with a beautiful girl but I can't remember what she looked like. And her hair was dripping wet and I made some smart remark about how she was ruining my couch. Then…then…what happened next?" Eric rubbed at his temples, trying to force the memory back into his mind.

"Hey," Marshall said, fully aware of what would happen if Eric tried too hard. "Don't force your brain, just blank it out."

"Honey!"

"What? I don't exactly swing that way."

"No, we were eating honey and biscuits and she took the honeycomb thing and wiped it down my nose in response to my comment. And then I leaned in real close to her, our noses touching, honey was getting all over her and she was giggling and I kissed her. Wow, how could I forget a kiss like that?"

"Man, that's great! Your memory's coming back. Anything else?"

"No. Not yet. Boy I wish I could remember her. But she's probably just from the past."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, the way I figure it, someone who loved me should have at least tried to contact me by now. I've got no mail, no messages waiting for me, nothing. What was I? A hermit?"

"I don't think so Mr. Weiss. Don't worry; I'm sure it'll all come back eventually. Hey, does the name Julian Sark mean anything to you?"

Eric thought a moment. "No. Should it?"

"Nah. All right Mr. Weiss. You are good to go. Nice to meet you and good luck with the memory thing."

"Thanks Marshall."

"Nadia, Marshall's coming out."

"At least he is not dead. But what good has it done?"

"At least Weiss recalled something."

"That was one of my favorite days since moving here. We got honey everywhere," Nadia trailed off, lost in thought. She and Eric had shared a lot since they first met and she cherished every moment. "That was when he asked me to go with him to visit his family. Did you know that they do not know what he does? He chose not to tell them so they would not worry for him. I called his brother John and asked him to come help us. Of course, we will have to tell him the truth about Eric but I think it will be for the best."

The driver's side door opened and Marshall hopped in. "Did I do okay? Was I believable? Am I ready for my close-up Mr. Demille?"

"Marshall, now is not a good time," Sydney said, returning her gaze to the monitors revealing the inside of Eric's house.

"Not even good enough for a solution to our problem?"

* * *

I pulled a few lines from one of my more favorite episodes of Alias. Nemesis 306. 


	4. can a dynamic duo ever falter?

He watched the smooth and slightly scuffed white ball glide across the fuzzy, red felt and connect fully with the yellow nine-ball. In turn, the nine clunked into the corner pocket and spun slightly in the small cup. Moving on to his next target, he smiled slightly to himself as his opponent seemed crestfallen.

Eric loved playing pool—that he remembered—but most of all he liked hanging out with people. They fascinated him. They amazed him. Especially when they started trying to get out of bets that they had made.

The man began making excuses as Eric clipped the fifteen-ball with the eleven, sending the striped, maroon ball into the pocket.

Plucking the money from the edge of the table, Eric shoved it in his back pocket and said, "Look. We played by your crazy rules, I even took the odds over evens to be nice, and you've lost. So, see? It really isn't my fault. Now, please, you're only making it worse for yourself."

A man came up behind the sore loser and told him more or less to get out of there before he made a scene. Eric sized the guy up and Vanna White-ed the table which the new mark accepted the challenge and began to set up the pool balls for a new game. It was a great tribal dance—whose hut was bigger and who would collect the most brides' kind of thing—and Eric was not going to be the first one to falter.

The greenie took a cue and broke the rack, sinking a few balls in the process.

"What are the terms?" he asked, scooting around the table and sending the three-ball to its new little home. "I guess I should ask how much money am I going to take from you."

"Cute. We're playing twenty a round. But, I'm willing to make it more interesting. I'm Eric."

"Michael."

"Nice to meet you."

* * *

"So, as I mentioned early, I have a solution to our problem, or at least, one of them," Marshall said, flopping onto his swivel chair and scooting a few feet across his office. He coyly slid back to in front of his computer as if nothing happened. "Sorry if I got your hopes up about getting Agent Weiss's memory back. I'm still working on that. But as for the computer problem, I figured out a temporary solution. Do you remember the Paris mission back working for SD-6 when you put the relay on the phone which ended up being a double relay because you had the same mission for the CIA? That was one of my better attempts—the bug was in the wire—anyway that's what I did to Agent Weiss's computer. It's kind of like a mini-echelon. So, any document he tries to retrieve with any kind of agency lingo, we'll get it and he'll get something else." 

Nadia had gotten use to Marshall's rants long ago and knew how to handle him now. One word questions and commands were the easiest way to control him but sometimes she liked to humor him when she thought he felt under appreciated. Usually, it just took a small gesture like inviting him out to lunch to make his day. She wasn't in the mood for humor today though. "What kind of documents?"

Marshall grinned, "Fun things. Fake letters to his family, facts sheets about economics, and boring stuff. Research for vacations, love letters to you."

"Marshall!"

"What?" Marshall asked with a blank look, "I, uh, well, he just seemed so lost. I thought I'd give him something to hope for. But, the good news, I think he's doing better. I think he's keeping his anger in check at least."

* * *

"I told you not to ask that any more, man," Eric said as his fist connected with the man's jaw just as he had watch the cue ball connect with so many others. The lesser man stumbled back a few steps and met the small of his back with the edge of the bar. "The answer is obviously 'no'." 

Michael scooted away from the counter and said calmly, "Now, Eric, let's talk this out. There's no need for such hostility."

"Bull crap!" Eric shouted, knocking the brown-headed man back with a punch to the left eye. He was tired of the guy and needed to show that anyway he could, although his fist was starting to ache and he couldn't wait for a surge of adrenaline to hit him.

"Is using your fists the best way?" Vaughn asked, licking the corner of his mouth were blood was fresh and looking Eric square in the eye.

"Probably not. But it sure is fun," he said, squaring up to land another punch. It quickly came when the man with too many questions came at him again and Eric punched him in the same spot, spinning the man around and knocking him out. The smaller man fell to the ground, knocking over a few bar stools in the process.

"How's that answer your question?"

* * *

Nadia watched the blank feed from Eric's apartment and decided he must still be at the bar with Vaughn. Mike promised to check back in with her as soon as he left Eric so hopefully, since she hadn't heard anything, things were going well. 

It was hard to not have Eric to vent to the night before as she tried to figure things out and came to some harsh conclusions. She had spent most of the day researching and watching the surveillance of Eric's home, which they had set up before allowing him to move back in.

She watched the clock click off another minute and wished she could go back in time. Stop what had happened from happening. And then she glanced across the hall to her sister who was thick in paperwork, trying to figure out a way to save Eric. Tears came to her eyes as she realized that someone truly cared for her and wanted to help her because she loved her.

Sydney looked back over the transcript between Sark and the mystery man whose voice had been altered and couldn't be identified yet. Something just wasn't making sense to her. But what? And then it hit her. She ran across the hall to Nadia's office and startled her from her daydream.

"How did Sark's accomplice know that you and Weiss were engaged?"

"What?" Nadia asked, coming out of her haze.

"The man talking to Sark said that you would start by killing the fiancé. Who else knew besides me?"

"No one. Well, except for my father."

"Then we've got a problem. Somehow, they knew. How long ago did Eric ask you?"

"Literally hours before we left for the mission. When did we pick up the conversation?"

"Just after we came home. So the person can't be in this office since everyone close knows Eric inhaled the substance and not you."

Nadia was thankful that someone else was thinking as she. Only, she hadn't come to the same conclusion as Sydney, apparently. "Unless the person doesn't want Sark to know that he screwed up. Sydney, I was thinking, what if we have a mole?"

"What? No. You don't know these men like I do. Even Sloane wouldn't do something like this. I know them."

"Are you sure? Look at our fathers' pasts. They thought they knew each other but when father started SD-6, Jack stayed with the CIA and my father, well Jack did what was right by becoming a mole at SD-6."

"Nadia, it's not your father. How many times do I have to say it? Your father would never do anything like this to you."

"No, he wouldn't," Nadia confirmed, waiting out Sydney's thought process. She knew the answer but wanted her sister to figure it out. Nadia, however, added, "And it is not your father either."

"Then who?" Sydney asked, taking a seat across from her sister.

"There' aren't that many more to choose from."

"Well, it's not me. And it's definitely not Marshall," Sydney said with a small grin, trying to imagine Marshall gathering the courage to go against them.

"It's obviously not me. That leaves Eric and."

"Vaughn. You think it's Vaughn? You must since Weiss was hurt and he's fine. Well, you're wrong. He and Weiss are best friends. He would never hurt him. No, it's not Vaughn."

"Sydney, I don't think it's him," Nadia said, putting up a halting hand to Sydney's rant.

"You're missing something in the transcript or rather missing the fact that something's not there in the transcript."

Sydney read back over it. "Dixon's not listed. You think it's Dixon? You think he's guilty?"

"Maybe not completely."

"What do you mean?"

"I think he did it, but I don't think it was his entire fault. I think there's something more."

"So what are you thinking?"

* * *

Eric dipped his hand into the pitcher of ice the bartender gave him and looked down at the man by his feet. "I guess we should call the police." 

Michael joined him at the bar, stepping over the man lying on the floor in the process. The man, who they had officially nicknamed the idiot, had gotten a cheap shot at Vaughn when Mike tried to intervene in a date gone awry. His tooth had split open his lip, oozing blood down his chin which he was now trying to take care of. He gratefully took a towel from the bartender and pressed it to his lip. "I still say I could have taken him."

"I'm sure you could have, but I was in the mood for a little scuffle."

"Feel better?"

"Yeah. Hey, you and I make a pretty good team," Eric said, rotating around on his barstool to survey the room. The poor woman who had received the first punch from the idiot was sitting, shaken, at a booth with a group of women who were man-bashing. Eric had made sure she was okay before tending to his own needs.

"We do," Vaughn said, turning around as well to face the same direction as Eric.

"Then, as a friend in my new life, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Does the name 'Julian Sark' mean anything to you?"

Vaughn shook his head. "Why?"

Eric chuckled, "I had this computer guy ask me and I haven't been able to shake it from my brain. I think I should know who he is but it just makes me more frustrated to think about it."

"I wouldn't worry about it. And hey, don't push your memory. It'll come."

"You think? I don't know. I'm getting worried. But, what can I do?" He asked to no one in particular. "Hey, do you think I had a cute girlfriend in my past?"

"A nice guy like you? Yeah."

"I wonder where she is."


	5. Could Isabel be the one?

I don't know if I said this but I _am_ proofreading and the problems you've told me about are not in the original—I've checked. And, I have a beta-which gets me through my days, most times-so if neither of us is catching the problems, plus two electronic proofreaders, then maybe the problem is with fanfiction after I save it because I do a fourth proofread after uploading the document. I don't know what else I can say. If you'd like me to email you the original, I can, to prove that everything is right but otherwise, I guess grit your teeth and bear it just like me.

Sorry for the delay of this chapter. School is, well school. I want to cry.

By the way, thanks C.

* * *

Rubbing her palms against her legs again, she scanned the room for the hundredth time trying to will Eric to be there. They, being APO, had decided that since she seemed to be a part of his missing life that he appeared to be recalling—however hazy—that it was important to insert her back in and try to speed the process along. 

And they needed that to happen quickly.

Things at the office were not going well. They had picked up chatter that something big was on the horizon but they didn't know when or how. Nadia felt in the pit of her stomach that, if things had gone Sark's way, it would have happened after he got the word that everyone on the team was dead. That was a problem. Especially since they, being Sydney and Nadia, suspected Dixon of being behind it. But only she and Sydney knew about the crazy suspicion and she wanted to keep it that way.

The cowbells on the front door sent out a cacophony of noise revealing that someone was coming in. Nadia peeked over the row of chewing gum and smiled when she saw Eric stretching out his quadriceps by the front counter. Nadia had sworn the older woman behind the counter to secrecy when Eric came in. She was not to reveal Nadia was there, Nadia had informed her without going too far into detail and the woman simply replied with a twinkling in her eyes that she understood.

"Hello Eric, is everything going well?" she asked, tightening the lid on a pickle jar.

"You know me?" he responded shocked, dropping his foot back to the ground. "Maybe that's why I ended up here. Please, what's your name?"

"Mrs. Bailey of course. What's wrong with you?"

"I was in an accident. A few days ago. It's not something I recommend doing."

"Really? Everything okay?"

"Yeah. But I lost the past few years of my life. Why I couldn't forget the awkward middle school years or that phase I went through in college without a girl or the eighties for that matter's beyond me."

Mrs. Bailey smiled, straightened up the napkins next to the deli counter, and continued as if it was common to her that one of her regulars couldn't remember a fifth of his life. "And that saint that's always with you? Is she okay?"

Nadia bit her lip to keep from screaming out. The woman was meddling in some dicey waters and it could spell a lot of trouble for them all.

"Saint? What do you mean?"

"I don't know," she responded, wiping at the countertop with her rag. "That what you're always calling her: 'my little Santos' I think you say."

"Santos is a person? I guess that Flinkman was right," he said more to himself than Mrs. Bailey. Sometimes, it took a bit for things to enter that thick head of his. "But why can't I remember her? What's she like?"

"She always was quick to smile around you. And laugh. Oh, there were times that you would get her started and I thought they'd have to take her out on a stretcher she was laughing so hard. She really loved you. Really _loves_ you."

"Do you ever see her?"

"Once and a while. She seems lost somehow, now. It's like she's found a sadness that she once knew and feels trapped in it again."

"Please, do you know her first name?"

"Nadia," she said quietly filling the room with the name as if it was a soft scent.

"Does she ask about me? Why hasn't she tried to contact me? Can you tell me anything?"

Mrs. Bailey laughed a little and said, "Oh now Eric, I don't want to be meddling in other people's business. I'm sure you'll find her when the time's right. Now get yourself out of here and finish your jog."

Eric chuckled and left it at that as he turned and headed back to the front door.

Nadia waited until the bells had calmed before heading for the front door, shooting Mrs. Bailey a wide-eyed look of annoyance, yet she couldn't be completely mad with the woman.

She pushed the door open and instead of running into the cool morning air, ran into a wall. Well, not a wall seeing as how she toppled it over, falling on top of it.

Eric started laughing as she tried to untangle herself from him and stand, apologizing the entire time. She helped him stand and he caught his first glance at the remarkable splendor.

"I'm Eric…Weiss. 38," he said sticking out his hand.

She took it in hers and smiled, remembering their first meeting. "Not single?"

"I don't know. Can we leave it at that?"

"Sure. Listen, I was about to finish my jog. Would you like to accompany me? I promise to buy you a bottled water or something for knocking you over."

"That sounds nice."

They headed off in the direction of their houses, keeping a comfortable pace between them. Nadia's heart, though, wanted to leap out of her chest with the mere familiarity of their run. This was heaven to her and no one could take it from her.

"Hey," Eric said between slaps of his feet on the sidewalk, "you never told me your name."

"Isabel," she replied simply, the name she had assumed many times before for an alias. She couldn't very well tell him her name was Nadia seeing as how Mrs. Bailey said it and how there weren't that many Nadias around.

"Where in Argentina are you from?"

"Qué? Por supuesto, usted sabe español. But how did you decide I was from Argentina?"

"I don't know. Lucky guess?"

"Eric Weiss, there is more to you than meets the eye. I'm glad I ran into you."

"Literally," he joked, rubbing his hip. "I'm glad I could take the bruises for you." He was shamelessly flirting, he knew it. But there was something about this girl that made him feel good. She made him forget about what he'd forgotten.

"You're too sweet. Are you sure you can't answer me about the girlfriend?"

Eric slowed and finally stopped in front of a bus stop. He wiped the sweat off of his chin with his shoulder and signed, "That's a funny story."

"How so?" She asked, leaning against the graffitied, glass wall.

"I lost my memory of the past few years. I'm getting kind of sick of telling people. I'm thinking about getting it typed up on a business card so I could just be like, 'hi, the name's Eric Weiss, my back story' and then I'd hand them the card."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah. The weird thing is, no one from my past is trying to help me get it back."

"That doesn't mean they don't care."

"It doesn't? I don't know. But if someone I loved was going through what I am, I'd be by their side."

"Maybe they don't know?"

"Maybe, but I feel like people from my past are all around me; they just won't talk to me."

"Like who?"

"I don't know. The guy at the bar, or the tech that comes to my house. Just people in my life. Maybe I'm just grasping at straws."

"Don't give up hope."

"I just get so frustrated when I try to think about it. If I could just remember a name. A name! That's all I'm asking for." Eric was turning redder and it wasn't from the run.

Nadia didn't want him to explode and tried to calm his nerves.

"This is ridiculous! A perfect stranger that ran into me is nicer than the bums from my past life. UGH! When I get my hands on them, I'll—I'll--," he stopped long enough to punch the glass bus stop wall, causing it to splinter and crack at the point of impact.

"Eric, Eric calm down. It'll be alright."

Eric dropped to his knees and hung his face in his hands, "Bell, what's wrong with me?"

Nadia crashed down next to him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You've had a rough week. Pushing your memory's not going to help. Just give it time."

Eric grinned, "You sound like my doctors. Forgive my brief moment of rage?"

"Of course. It must be hard to lose your memory."

Eric stood, she quickly followed and they began their jog again. Whether he felt embarrassed or he just didn't have anything else to say, he didn't talk for the rest of their journey. Nadia was simply happy to be with him again, no matter how sappy it sounded.

His temper seemed to be fading the further they ran, which was a good sign, at least Nadia hoped so. He eventually asked if he could escort her back to her house but she told him that it wasn't necessary.

When they arrived at Eric's house he said, "Well, this is my stop. Can we take a rain check on the bottled water? My brother's coming in and I've got to go pick him up."

"Claro. Not a problem. Would you like to go out this Friday, kind of a non-date thing?"

"Boy, I sure do but I can't. How about coming over here though? For like a cookout. I've been making friends since, well, if I had one of those business cards I'd give it here, and I want them to come over and hang out. Do you want to come?"

"I don't know," she replied in a joking tone. "Will I fit in?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure you want me to?"

"I sure could use a friend, especially one as nice as you. So will you come? 7:00? Bring that perfect smile?"

"I think I can manage that. This girl you can't remember if you have or not, she sure is lucky."

"Yeah, I hope so."

Eric waved goodbye as he entered his house and Nadia jogged a few houses down the street to Sydney's apartment. She had a lot to do.


	6. old friends and new faces

"Will I fit in?"

"Yes." He said matter-of-factly, like she was asking if cotton was soft or the sky was blue. How could he not have a doubt in his mind but she had every reservation in the world filling hers?

She was still in her fledgling weeks at APO and felt out of place. True, her family made up a third of the organization's main players but she hardly knew them. Everyone else had worked together and knew each other's quirks and passions. How was she supposed to fit in? But Eric believed in her and that made all the difference.

She didn't reveal her apprehensions to anyone. Eric had caught her at a rare moment of weakness and she had expressed her uncertainty of being in the group and felt silly for it. But that was a fleeting feeling because Eric reached out and wrapped his arms around her. At first, she felt herself tense from toes to head but instantly relaxed and let herself hug him back. It was a good thing.

"Santos, you are an enigma to me."

"Is that a good thing?"

"I don't know. I'm still deciding."

"Oh thanks."

"Santos, if it's not completely obvious to you that I'm utterly and absolutely enthralled by you, then I must be doing something wrong."

"Oh, is that what you call those puppy dog eyes you shoot me in the office?"

Eric snorted as he let her go and crashed to the couch. "If it wasn't the truth, I'd be greatly offended. How can I not like a girl who gets a 38 bowling?"

She threw a pillow at him from the armchair she snuggled into. "You promised to never mention that again."

"Yeah, well, I also promised that no one could be that bad at bowling until I saw you play."

"I think it was the hotdogs."

"You can make all the excuses you want," he said, a grin curling the corners of his mouth. "It doesn't make it better. Ah, Santos what am I gonna do with you? You know what Nadia? _Nadia_? _Nadia_!"

Nadia's eye shot open and she pushed off the table she was using as a pillow.

"You were talking in your sleep," Sydney said softly, sliding a mug of cocoa to her sister. It was hard to watch her sister enduring such trauma, but Sydney had faith that Nadia would pull through it. Nadia didn't seem to have the same confidence. Desperation appeared to be fueling her drive, not hope, and Sydney was worried.

"Nad, please tell me your getting more sleep than this."

Nadia yawned and took a sip of hot chocolate. She let that be her answer and added, "I had a meeting with my father earlier. He wanted to talk about what Sark had to say."

"Does he have any leads who the other man is?"

"No. He wanted to talk about something else. About the reference to Eric as being my fiancé."

"I thought you said he already knew? Oh, Nadia, please tell me he was okay with it."

"He discovered it when he read the conversation between Sark and his accomplice. He seemed to be okay. But he was more interested in the fact that the second man knew about it. Someone, he said, must have bugged our apartment. Meaning--."

"Meaning, he's going down the same path we are."

"Yes. But I have a feeling he won't take the same laid back approach as we are. If he comes to the same conclusion, we might never know why."

"Then we need to figure it out before him."

* * *

"Hey, we had a dog in high school, right?" Eric asked, taking a drink from his Coke can. "Well you were in elementary school," he amended.

"Yeah," his brother responded, grabbing another slice of pizza from the box.

"Named him Duke for the head GI Joe guy, because I refused to name him Transformer which you were obsessed with?"

"Yeah."

"But, we only had him for a month because it jumped the fence and impregnated the neighbor's award-winning Afghan named Princess Guinevere of the Sparkling Lake and we had to give him to a farm. Now, I ask you, why can I remember that but not a week ago?"

"You will. And I promise, you'll be happy when you do."

John, his brother, had been sequestered as soon as he got off the plane. Nadia and Sydney were waiting for him there, Sydney smartly dressed and Nadia in jogging clothes. They told him all that they could to make things clear and also explained what things to avoid saying.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," John began, taking a bite of pizza, "every time you'd call, there would be this tone to your voice like at any moment you'd break out in song. I honestly could hear your smile over the phone."

"That happy hunh?"

"Mmm, that much in love."

"Where is she, man?"

"Maybe she's suffering from the same thing you are?"

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that. What if she's out there hurt or something? What if she's relying on me to know where she is and I can't even remember my computer password?"

"I'm sure she's fine. Don't worry."

"Don't worry? Why would you say that if you didn't want me to worry?"

"Don't worry."

"Brother's can be incredibly infuriating."

"Tell me how you really feel."

"I would, but I don't know if you'd know what those words mean."

"Funny."

Taking a bite of pizza, Eric began to think about how he could get the missing years of his life back. No, he was more interested in finding his girl, if she still was, and making sure she was okay. Then he'd ask her to help him remember. What if she was hurt? Lying in a hospital bed, waiting for him to find her? What if she was lost too?

Eric licked the pizza sauce from the corner of his mouth as he thought about how he could find this girl with only a name. And then he remembered Femi O'Reilly, the investigator for the company he worked at right out of college. He and Femi went way back.

"Do you want anything from the kitchen?" Eric asked as he headed in that direction.

"Nah, you'd probably spit in it or something."

"That would be mature," he said sarcastically, stepping around the counter and opening the bag of chips they had left there.

It was good to be with his younger brother. Things almost seemed normal, somehow, and he could just about forget forgetting his past. Maybe it was something he didn't want to remember. After all, he seemed to only grow angrier if he harped too long on the subject, so maybe it wasn't that great. After all, as he kept rehashing with anyone who would listen, the people from his past weren't busying themselves with him so why should he worry? Life is too short to be wasted on worry.

Yet he couldn't shake the idea of this woman who could be out there waiting for him. He had to do something. He picked up his phone and dialed Femi's old number. He wished under his breath that she still lived in the same place.

"Well, well. Can you imagine my surprise to see the name Eric Weiss on caller i.d.?" She seemed mature with her soft, melodic voice. It immediately calmed his nerves.

"Hey Femi, it's good to hear your voice," Eric said quietly so his brother wouldn't hear. "I'm glad you still live with your parents."

"Oh, Hubb, they moved back to Egypt about five years ago to be with my sister. I took over the house for them. If you had kept in touch, maybe you would know that."

"You mean we didn't stay friends?"

"Laa. After you quit the company to go off and do various and sundry things, you pretty much severed all ties."

"What do you mean?"

"I think you said something about hating the brokerage world and that you wanted something exciting. I don't know. That's the last I heard from you."

Eric sighed and shook his head a bit. Why did he quit a perfectly fine job and why did it coincide with his missing eight years?

"Well, I'm sorry. Because I could really use your help."

"Eric," she began, a smile in her voice, "I will always be willing to pay you a favor."

* * *

"I don't know why I'm even here. Yes I do. My punk brother made me come," Eric confessed looking around at the group of people.

He had been roped in and didn't know how to severe the strings. His brother had read about the group in a magazine and called around to find out when it was meeting. Eric knew it was pointless and silly. He felt like a college kid again going before his class to give a report. Naked. Sure, he didn't mind telling strangers on the street his problem, but coming face to face with a group of people with his same predicament wasn't his idea of fun. It took away what little appeal of being unique there was.

"Eric, we're not here to judge you. We just want to help you."

"Yeah, well maybe I don't want it."

The discussion leader took in a deep breath and suggested that the group convene for a few minutes to let everyone catch their breath. She, of course, was a plant. They all were. They knew as much as they needed and knew not to push him. Eric's brother was turning out to be a good plant on the inside but, sadly, Eric had not revealed anything more to him than they already knew.

"This group seems pointless, I know," a voice said, pulling him away from the orange juice he was drinking. He turned around to the owner of the voice and smiled.

"Yeah, but pointless doesn't begin to describe it. I'm Weiss."

"Sydney."

"So how long you been doing this little dance?"

"A few years."

"And you still haven't gotten your missing time back?"

"No, I did. I come merely to offer moral support."

"For people like me?"

"For everyone."

"So how much did you lose?"

"Two years. I woke up and my yesterday was two years ago. It was a shock."

"Tell me about it. I just woke up and it wasn't there. And I'm sick of everyone acting like everything will be okay. Like life is fine and normal. What's normal about being stuck in the past?"

"I understand," Sydney began. "The guy I was in love with got married while I was missing."

"What? You didn't have any contact with the people from your past? Me either. It's like they're avoiding me like the plague."

"They weren't avoiding me. They didn't know. Things were different and circumstances just kept us apart. But, that's in the past. Things became relatively normal after that. I'm sure you'll get things figured out."

"That's what everyone keeps telling me."

"It'll happen."

"Maybe I don't want it to happen."

Sydney just looked back at him not knowing what to say. Seeing Eric like this was opening a lot of old wounds for her and she knew her time was better spent figuring out why it happened and how they could fix it. She was tired of dealing with it. It had gotten old and she was ready for things to be resolved. Everyone was.

Someone entered the big room from the doorway and headed in their direction. It wasn't the last person Sydney expected to see, but she was definitely shocked to see him. Something must have happened that couldn't wait.

"Weiss, I'd like you to meet--."

"Mr. Sloane, I know," Eric said, thrusting out his hand. "Is the mission almost complete?"

* * *

Femi O'Reilly is a friend that's Egyptian. Loosely translated, Hubb is the basic word for love and laa means "no" in Arabic. 


	7. the beginning of the end

So sorry for the delay. There have been many road blocks to get this chapter up. I had a wedding and the internet wasn't working... anyway, hope you enjoy. Thanks always to C for her beta-ing.

* * *

Sydney met Vaughn walking down the sidewalk to Eric's cook-out. He nudged her a little with his shoulder making her smile and lean back against him just a bit. With things being so hectic at the office and Vaughn picking up the extra slack from Eric not being around, they hadn't been around each other much. Hopefully, that would be changing soon.

"So you hit Sloane."

"Yes."

"On purpose?"

"Yes."

"Did it feel great?"

"Of course. But there's more to it than that. I thought he was behind Weiss's problems."

"Really?"

"No, not really. But I saw an opportunity and took it."

"An opportunity to release some of your anger towards Sloane. So what happened?"

* * *

"Weiss, I'd like you to meet--." 

"Mr. Sloane, I know," Eric said, thrusting out his hand. "Is the mission almost complete?"

"Excuse me?"

"The team? Did they survive or are they dead?"

Sydney's mind was reeling. What was going on? Had they picked the wrong APO member? Acting fast, she turned on Sloane and connected her fist with his jaw. Sloane staggered back a few steps and put the back of his hand up to his lip.

"Sydney! Why would you do something like that?" Eric asked, clothes-lining her shoulders to keep her back. "The man's company has done nothing short of save the world."

"Company?"

"The World Health Organization? He sent a team into China to find and neutralize the source of the influenza vat that's brewing over there. He hoped to eradicate SARS as well."

"Boy, for someone in your situation, you sure are up to date on things," Sydney said under her breath.

"Yeah, well, I've picked up a newspaper or two since then," Eric responded. "Mr. Sloane, are you okay?"

"Yes, Mr. Weiss. Don't worry about Ms. Bristow. Just consider it a side effect of her time lost," Sloane explained, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and pressing it to his lip. "She has genuine trust issues."

"Apparently," Weiss agreed.

Sloane turned to Sydney, "be that as it may, Ms. Bristow, may I speak to you alone?"

"Sure."

They walked over to the doors and exited the large gym-like room. Sloane dabbed at his lip and sneered at Sydney. She stood her ground and turned her nose up a bit as she took a deep breath.

"Sydney, I know that you and my daughter have figured out who Mr. Sark's accomplice is. I'm sure you've already deduced that I won't be as lackadaisical in bringing him down as you have been."

She pursed her lips and squinted a bit. "Any hesitation we might have had was due to the fact that they, Weiss and Dixon, are our friends. Life isn't as expendable to us as it is to you."

"One day, Sydney. That's all I'm giving you to either confront Weiss or Dixon. After that, I'll see personally that the problems are dealt with."

"Problems? You mean you'd get rid of Eric?"

"Agent Weiss knows things that we cannot allow to become public knowledge. I'm quite sure I don't have to remind you of your friend Will Tippin. We've already discovered thatAgent Weiss isremembering bits about his life with my daughter and doesn't mind sharing them. What if he started to recall APO?"

"What about your daughter? Eric is her love. Are you going to take that from her?"

Sloane paused, "we've all suffered considerable loss in our work, Sydney. You and I know it best. Theonly thingwe can do is be there for her." Turning on his heal, he headed for the doors that led to the parking lot.

Sydney was sick of him getting the last word. Since she began working for him, he always knew how to get under her skin and she was tired of it. He was merely a man, a sick man, with a twisted sense of reality. She had to fight for her friends. For her sister.

"If you kill Weiss, she'll hate you as much as I do for killing Danny."

Sloane stopped for a moment, her words obviously stinging more than his split lip. Instead of responding, he continued through the doors out to his waiting, chauffeured car.

"He's going to kill them," Sydney muttered under her breath. "He's going to kill them and blame me."

* * *

"Syd! Mike! Get in here so we can get to the serious partying. Everyone else is here already." They shared a look and entered the house behind their energetic host. Eric introduced them to "the guy that seems to know everything," "the sweet girl who ran into him," and his brother, no cute nickname for him. It was weird to be friends with everyone in the room and act like you know none of them. However, it wasn't like their lives were normal. 

"Mike, could you go out to the grill and help Marshall? I'm afraid he'll analyze the grill to death. Isabel, could I get your help in the kitchen?"

Nadia offered a soft smile in response and followed him to the kitchen. John, his brother, followed the guys out to the patio leaving Sydney standing in the living room. She asked if Eric and Nadia needed any help and, after receiving cautionary glances from the two, went outside as well.

"You seem to have made quite a few friends since the last time we met. I'm happy for you."

"Thanks, thank you," he said, cutting up a tomato. "And I'm glad you're one of them. It's funny how the people here just kind of fell into my life. It's exciting."

She stopped to think about the truth of what he had just said. Finally, she added, "I'm glad." They continued their work in silence, the guilt building in Nadia who was being pulled down even more and more by the weight of the ring hanging from her neck. She shouldn't be lying to him, but what else could she do? "I'm going to run these burgers out to the grill."

Eric watched her leave as he continued to attack a container of mushrooms he was going to cook up for the burgers. Somehow, he felt like Isabel would like them. He was thinking about giving up hope on Nadia and thinking that Isabel would be the perfect girl for his new life. Maybe Nadia wasn't even real.

John came back inside and grabbed some drinks from the refrigerator. "I like your friends, Eric. They're…interesting."

"Why thank you. What can I say? I like diversity."

"You know what? I think that Syd and Mike might have feelings for each other. You might have a little matchmaker gene in you," he joked as he went back outside again.

"Oh great. That's just what I need."

The familiar ring from his cell phone forced him to pull his hands out of the mushrooms and answer the call.

"Femi, I was just thinking about you."

"If only you were," she purred. "I found your girl. It was hard. It was like someone wanted to hide her past. And what I found seems almost too perfect."

"What do you mean by that?"

"In my experience, anyone with a record like hers is either a good guy or a really really bad guy."

"What? Like the government has its hand on it?"

"You said it, not me. I'm sending you a picture I found. It's grainy, but I think you'll be able to tell what she looks like."

"Thanks Femi."

"Afwan, Hubb."

Eric turned the laptop around on the counter and opened his email account. He was nervous to see what she looked like but was excitedly nervous. At last he was getting answers. He had talked to Femi a few times since their initial conversation and she couldn't offer any answers to his questions. He had asked her if she ever dove into his past but she told him that after he left, she just didn't have the heart. It was like someone was hiding _his_ past, he thought. Or maybe people really didn't care about him.

Isabel's beautiful face came into focus. He had been staring out the door, into the bright sunlight, and it only took a moment for his eyes to adjust. She held out her cell phone and asked softly, "Can I take this into the bedroom?"

"Sure thing," he said in a devilish tone, "but if you're not out in ten minutes I might have to come in and find ya."

The image popped up on his computer pixilated, delaying the inevitable, so he returned to cutting vegetables. Sydney came in and explained that the men were demanding cheese for the burgers and Eric helped her out with the quest. In return, Sydney offered a witty comment about the joy men have working over a grill going back to the time of the cavemen and Eric grunted in return. Chuckling, she headed back to the door.

Eric glanced up at the computer screen and dropped his knife. It might have been grainy, but he knew the eyes, the lips, the face. "Bella is Nadia," he asked in a whisper.

Sydney whirled around and smiled, "What did you just say?"

"Do you know something about this?"

"Weiss, do you remember?"

Eric rubbed his forehead as he tried to recall the truth. "No. No it can't be. No!" He couldn't focus, couldn't remember. He watched Sydney walk towards him but refused to accept what she was saying.

Instinctively, he vaulted over to the refrigerator, reached behind it, and pulled a nine millimeter gun from its hiding place. "Hands up, don't make a sound."

"Eric," Sydney pleaded.

"Do as I say!" he ordered. Never once did the thought cross his mind that, as a broker, it might not be typical to have a gun hidden like that. But Eric wasn't really thinking anymore. He was simple on an instinctive drive. "Turn around. On your knees."

Sydney obeyed knowing that once he came into range, she'd subdue him and then figure out what to do from there. Unfortunately, after passing the fireplace tools, he only got close enough to connect the end of the fire poker with the back of her head. She crumpled to the floor and passed out.

Nadia called from the bedroom, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Eric responded, side-stepping his way to the hallway and dropping the iron tool, "just me and my big feet."

With his gun drawn to waist level, he crept towards the bedroom to within listening distance.

"Just give me an hour. An hour! That's all that I'm asking for." Nadia pleaded to whomever she was talking to. "Then you can have him. Do what you need to because I know you won't listen to me anymore. Just, promise that Eric won't suffer. And please don't kill him. And don't let him know that I was involved as either Nadia or Isabel."

Eric pushed his way into the room, "What the hell is going on here? Who are you?"

Nadia snapped her phone closed and spun around, "Eric, please let me explain."

"We're past the point of explanation! You lied to me! You lied to me." He emphasized his words, moving the tip of the gun with each word. "Move it."

Nadia slowly walked past him and out into the living room. Her heart leapt to her throat when she saw Sydney lying on the ground. "It's started," Nadia said quietly.

"Take a seat. I've gotta think."

"That will only make it worse," she said, slowly sinking into the chair that she frequently occupied.

"How do you know? Did you do this to me?"

"No, Eric, I didn't. I'm from your past life. The one you can't remember."

Vaughn and Marshall walked in on this last statement. They stopped, frozen in their step, trying to figure out what was happening. From the look on Nadia's face and the gun in Weiss's hand, now trained on them, something was up. "What's going on?"

"Eric needs to know."

"Nadia, don't!"

"No! I have to. Eric, I loved you. I still do! We were a couple. We were going to get married."

"No. Lies," he said through gritted teeth. "I don't know what you're trying to pull but I'm not listening anymore."

"No! They are not lies. We, all of us here, were your friends. We still are. We tried to help you by becoming your friends again," she added, slowing her speech to calm down the situation. She pulled the ring from under her shirt. "I want to marry you. Please remember!"

"Well then, let's ask this panel of friends you claim I had. Anyone? Were we engaged?"

Nadia cringed at the silence. "Sydney was the only one who knew."

"How convenient," he bit out but Nadia heard something in his voice. He was trying to recall his past. Nadia just hoped that no one's forearm got in the way like poor Jack's. She looked at Vaughn and pleaded with her eyes for him to do nothing. She was as worried for them as she was for Eric. She knew that they had stepped into the "no turning back zone" and it could leave all of them dead. If only her mask hadn't broken! That fateful day that Eric gave her his and risked his own life. Why had that happened? Of course, if she had been infected, maybe everyone would already be dead. What did she have to lose?

"I'm not taking this bull crap anymore."

"Yes, you are," she commanded, standing as tall as she could. "You're going to listen because your curiosity is stronger than your anger at this moment. Why would I lie about something like that? Remember me! Remember Prague and Hamburg. Remember when we went to the Magic Mansion and Hawaii. Mrs. Bailey! She said that you were with a girl named Nadia. That's where we met. You just heard Michael call me that. Please. Please don't do this. You remembered the day with the honey."

He ran his knuckles down the sides of his head. "I—I can't, I won't listen to this anymore!" He crossed the room and grabbed Nadia by the neck pushing her down to the couch. He held the men at bay with the gun.

"Eric please," she choked. "I love you."

Eric looked down into her eyes, at the tears that were welling there, and couldn't understand why he was doing what he was doing but he couldn't stop. What was wrong with him?

"It's his fault," Eric screamed.

"Whose?" Michael questioned. "Who are you talking about?"

"Sark's partner! He set it up so it would be this way! And now you! You kept everything from me! Why?"

"Forgive me. I did it for you," Nadia's tongue was feeling too thick for her throat and mouth. The coppery taste of blood was hanging heavy in the back of her throat and it was all she could do to speak. "Maybe I was selfish. That's all I can give you."

Nadia felt his hand tighten around her neck. White spots began to develop in front of her eyes as tears streamed down her cheeks. She was past the point of doing something. Having Eric as her attacker, she let her guard down and now she didn't have the breath or strength to fight him back. What if the gun went off? Then, who knows whose death she'd have to live with. If she lived. But now she was going to die. What did it matter? Killed by the hand of the man she was in love with while those she loved watched.

"Eric, please," she whispered.

No amount of training, no amount of years as a spy prepared them for such a fight. Eric wasn't in his right frame of mind and they were which made it difficult. It had only been a few moments since he first grasped her neck but it was enough for Vaughn to react. Vaulting over the coffee table, he reached for the gun and Eric.

A shot rang out.


	8. a new beginning

Thanks to everyone who stuck it out with me. I appreciate all of your comments and especially the great help from C. Hope all is well.

* * *

Dixon watched Sark walk across the warehouse in his sharp, expensive suit, a briefcase in his left hand. Sark set the briefcase on top of the table between him and Dixon and popped the lid open. A twisted little smile crossed his lips and Dixon licked his to fend off his nerves.

"It's dangerous to have meetings like this Sark."

"Oh, I don't think so. It's not exactly like anyone will turn you in." To further explain, Sark reached in the case and pulled out a folder, tossed it to Dixon, and took a seat across from him, the smile growing bigger.

Opening the packet, he bit his tongue at the sight of the images. Sydney, laying face down, blood pooling from the wound on the back of her head. Nadia, purple and black bruises around her small neck. Vaughn, a bullet hole in his forehead. He stopped. He couldn't look at anymore. "So the task has been completed. Where are my children?"

"They are with an associate. Don't worry; you'll get them back after you get rid of the evidence."

"What? Weiss?"

"Yes. He's a loose end that needs to be dealt with."

"That wasn't part of the deal."

"True. But, you see, I hold all the aces."

"For instance, how you came by these pictures."

"Yes. Part of the programming built in for Ms. Santos carried over to Mr. Weiss."

"You knew that Nadia wasn't infected?"

"Yes. Grant it, you did a good job of covering however, not well enough. Lucky for you Mr. Weiss responded as he did. Lucky for your children. The programming involved loading the evidence onto a server in San Diego. I received them this morning."

"So, I get rid of Weiss and I get my kids?"

"Yes. I promise."

"Your promises mean nothing to me."

"Much like your promise to not sabotage the actions against Ms. Santos? Tell me, when did you break her gas mask as opposed to removing the filter?"

"What?"

"You had to know that Mr. Weiss would rather save his love than his own life. Much like you and your children. So you made it so they knew the mask was faulty."

"I don't know what you mean."

"You had to know, or at least think, that if Mr. Weiss was infected and not Ms. Santos, you had a greater chance of finding a solution to your problem. But then there was that little counter-measure."

"About that, could you please disarm it?"

Sark took out a small remote control and pushed a button. "Clever device, don't you agree? To think, a small transceiver placed just so in your neck, set to explode if you broke the rules, kept you from seeking the help of your dear friends. It's a shame, really. I rather enjoyed going to battle with Sydney."

"Don't talk about her!"

"My, my, new found courage. Complete your task; you'll receive your children. Ciao."

Dixon waited until the last of Sark's footsteps could be heard before he hung his head and wept over the pictures of his murdered colleagues. How had it happened? How could _he _let it happen?

* * *

A shot rang out. 

Eric connected his elbow with Vaughn's chin, knocking him back on the coffee table. The bullet had screamed by his ear, leaving an intense ringing and blurring his vision.

"Agent Vaughn, don't!" Marshall warned, helping him sit up. "Remember Mr. Bristow? Agent Weiss has almost a superhuman reaction when fully affected by the toxin. Imagine Mr. Bristow's arm as your neck."

"Point taken Marshall," Vaughn said, popping his jaw, trying to get the ringing to stop.

John came running inside at the gunshot and was dumbfounded at the sight.

"Eric, what are you doing? You love that woman!"

Eric's chin began to quiver. He closed his eyes and raised his face to the ceiling. Whether he was thinking about killing them or thinking about what his brother had said, they didn't know. They just watched him. And then, he opened his eyes and looked back at Nadia. "That's. True. Nadia, I love you," he said as if he had a sudden revelation. Maybe the explosion from the gun woke him up. Maybe it had grown to be too much for him and something just popped in his brain. Whatever the reason, he loosened his grip around her throat and slipped his hand to the back of her neck. "Nadia, what have I done?"

"Eric?" she asked incredulous.

He pressed closer to her but pulled back as if frightened. He threw the gun out of his hand as if it burned him but never took his gaze from her. There were those eyes he was missing, the sweet lips, the hair—perfect even when not dripping wet. This was his saint, the one who saved him. The one who would always save him. He leaned forward again and drew her to him, meeting his lips with hers. It was sweeter than words.

"Nadia," he said breathless.

"Eric, I've missed you."

"Me too. And you've been right here in front of me. How could I not see it?"

"Sometimes, we all fall into a haze. Plus, it wasn't exactly your fault."

Eric stood up and grinding his teeth agreed, "You're right. It was Sark's."

Nadia nodded her head vigorously, "Do you remember who his partner is?"

Eric narrowed his eyes as if to get a better focus on things. It was still a haze in his brain but he was recalling bits and pieces. The first time he met Vaughn, the first time he heard about Marshall and then met the crazy guy. Coming face to face with Sloane. Being shot by Derevko. Falling head over heels for Nadia. And then he remembered the source of his problems. "Dixon. It was Dixon. He's Sark's partner. But there's more. Sark has his kids."

* * *

Eric bent forward and rested his head on the steering wheel of the non-descript van. His head had been exploding for the past three days since he had gotten his memory back. He almost preferred being in the dark to the pain. But, he had to admit that being back with Nadia was far greater than any headache. Especially rediscovering the way she kissed. 

"Agent Weiss?" Marshall asked timidly.

"Marshall, unless your voice is laced with narcotics and will sooth my head, I don't want to hear you speak."

"I'm—sorry, I know you said that earlier, but I recently got some new information and thought, well, given your situation, you'd like to hear but I understand you want some peace and quiet so you won't hear a word from me. Not a peep."

"Marshall, you have a minute. That's how long I'll listen to you before I hurt you. Deal?"

"Of course. Is that minute starting now? Or when you finished?"

"Marshall," Weiss hissed.

"Okay. Sorry. I found out from the lab that you had, well still have, an incredibly high level of endorphins coursing through your body. And your adrenaline levels weren't even chartable."

"Endorphins?"

"Yeah, you know the things that are released during exercise and give you that buzz like your Superman? It's called a runner's high sometimes."

"Yeah, I know that. How did they fix me?"

"Well, you can just thank your little pituitary gland for that. Hey—little fella, thanks for the boost."

"Marshall!"

"Right. Well, endorphins are closely related to pain and emotions, or at least affect them. There's really three types of endorphins. There's beta en--."

"Ten seconds, Flinkman."

"Let's just say your body went to battle, using little endorphins soldiers, with that funk that took over and won."

"Good to know."

They returned to a stuffy silence, the only sound coming from Marshall taping his fingers against his knee.

"Mr. Weiss, it was a good thing you remembered about that contact information. What was it like talking to Mr. Sark? I mean, I've talked to him once, on the phone, to defuse a bomb that one time but I wasn't all cool like you. I mean, you just dialed the number and were just like, 'hey, Sark, what's going down?' You were very composed. Plus, you covered your tracks for being the one that was infected. Very suave."

"Are you still talking Marshall?"

"I—was just trying to, you know, pay you a compliment."

Eric rolled his forehead against the steering wheel to facilitate looking at Marshall. Marshall really wasn't paid the respect he deserved. He was genius, quirky, but still one of the better friends Eric had. "Marshall, I didn't thank you for going up to bat for me. It took a lot of courage to be the first to be reinserted into my life. You really are a great friend. Thanks."

"Your—welcome," Marshall responded, letting the corners of his mouth curl. He busied himself with his laptop to hide his embarrassment. "You know I—shh."

"I wasn't talking."

"No shh! It's about to go down."

* * *

Dixon wiped the heel of his hand against his cheeks as he heard the resonating tone of shoes against the unforgiving concrete. Sark must need something else. Perhaps a pound of flesh. 

"Sark, I," the words fell heavy out of his mouth as he looked at his new companion.

"What's wrong, Dixon? Betrayal leave your mouth dry?"

"Syd! The pictures! I thought you were dead."

Sydney rubbed the back of her head where a generous sized bump was located. "I obviously am not. Although, that's the way you wanted it, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry, Sydney."

"Sark took your kids before and you came to me. Why didn't you this time?"

"I couldn't. I had to do what I had to do."

"You didn't have to do anything. You're working with Sark. You hate him!"

"Yes, but I was working with Sloane as well. One evil for another. Think about it. I had to Sydney for my kids. I had to make Sark believe I was with him so he'd give them back. He put a tracker on me to know where I was at all times; know what I was saying, doing. I was trying to figure out a plan. That's why I broke Nadia's mask. She didn't know the filters weren't in. I thought Weiss would protect her and not get harmed himself."

"You thought wrong."

"I thought I could control him. The situation. Keep him away from you guys until I could figure out something. Syd, they're my kids. I already lost Diane. It would be the choice between Nadia and Jack or Vaughn. Could you choose?"

"I'd figure out a way not to have to."

"Then I'm not as strong as you. But now, I'm asking for your help. Will you help me get my kids back?"

More footsteps approached and Dixon watched, speechless, as Nadia walked towards him, his children in tow. "Steven! Robin!" said so softly that he thought they might disappear if he said them too loud. They ran to him, smiles growing.

Nadia stuck her hands into her pockets and headed back outside. It was nice to know that Dixon had his children back but the cost was almost far too great. She walked into the gloomy day, closing her jacket to the hazy chill, and looked for Eric. She needed some normalcy and to just be with him. Turning the corner she found him leaning against the van, his head resting in his hands. He wasn't supposed to leave the van.

Something must be wrong.

All thoughts coursed through her mind as she sprinted to his side. The strongest of which being that he had a relapse and she'd find Marshall dead somewhere. So much for normalcy. She stopped just next to him and placed a comforting hand on his back.

"Eric? Where's Marshall?"

"Marshall?"

Nadia looked to the back of the van and saw two legs splayed out on the ground. Her worst nightmare was being realized. And then Marshall popped his head from around the back of the van. "Nadia, you should see what he did to Mr. Sark."

She turned to Eric and rubbed his back, relief flooding her. "Feel better?"

"Yeah. Sark looks like I feel."

"Well good."

She walked around the vehicle and looked down at Sark's bloodied face. His eyes were swollen and he had a gash on his right cheek.

"Aren't you tired of kidnapping those poor children?"

"Nah. It's good sport."

"You disgust me. But you probably take pleasure in that."

"I enjoy any banter with you. There is something about you and your sister that I just cannot seem to get enough of."

Eric joined them. "I know what you mean," he said, kissing Nadia's cheek. "But, lucky for Vaughn and me, they can't seem to get enough of us either. You'll have a long time to think about that fact in your cell for the rest of your life, too."

Shaking his head in disgust and pity, Eric wrapped his arm around Nadia and walked back to the side of the van. He opened the side door and slid onto the bench seat; Nadia followed. Closing the door, Nadia welcomed the butterflies that still filled her stomach when she and Weiss were alone. They sat in silence, Nadia completely happy and not wanting to upset the peace they'd finally reached. Apparently, Eric had other ideas.

"So, are we done," he asked quietly.

"Yes."

"You and me are finished," he stated.

Nadia had a sinking feeling. "Wait. I don't understand."

He enjoyed the shyness that Nadia seemed to still feel around him. It suggested an innocence in her that could never be lost. That was just one of the things he fell in love with. Reaching across the bench, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her tight to his side. She fit perfectly there and he was content to sit like that, his cheek resting against her head. But he loved playing mind games with his girl. He rested his right hand on her hip and laced his left hand with hers. "What I mean is I think I asked you to marry me. Yet I don't see the rock on your finger. If you don't wanna wear it, I can totally hawk it and get, like, a big screen t.v. for it."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"I might. Where is it?"

She slid it out from its hiding place and turned it just so to catch the light and sparkle. Taking it as a cue, he unlatched the chain, slipped off the ring and gingerly placed it on the appropriate finger. He played with it, rotating it back and forth between his fingers, letting it twinkle. She tipped her head back and he let his lips be naturally pulled to hers. He was lost in her cuteness and hopes for the future and all she could think of was how she never wanted to lose him again. Moving his right hand to the back of her head, he shifted and wrapped his left arm around her. They were totally happy and had fully forgotten the rest of the world when the door slid open.

"Guys?"

"Vaughn, unless the van is on fire, leave us alone," Eric growled.

Chuckling, Vaughn replied, "I guess you deserve that. Just remember we've gotta transport Dixon's kids so keep it G-rated."

"Thanks," Eric said, kissing her again. "I'll keep that in mind. Now get out of here."

The door closed once more and Eric rested his forehead against hers. "Maybe this isn't the best place for our middle school antics. I mean, I don't want to sound like a girl but my head hurts and we're technically at work. Don't get me wrong, I love kissing you--."

"Then return to your antics."

Eric grinned revealing the dimple in his cheek. "Yes ma'am."

* * *

"Where do we go from here, Syd?" 

"I don't know Dixon. We've been through so much together, I don't know if we'll get through this."

"Can we try?"

"I don't think we can. You've put my in a retched spot. If I have to choose between you and my sister, I'm going to show you the same courtesy you showed us."

"I guess I've brought that on myself. All the good I've done, and it's all been erased. Do you think you'll ever find it in your heart to forgive me?"

Sydney shook her head. "Maybe, one day. If I ever forgive Sloane for what he's done to me you'll know that I've forgiven you. But until then, all we can do is begin the painful task of reassembling our friendship with the knowledge that I'll watch you more closely than Sloane."

"I guess that's all I can ask for."

* * *

Eric ran his hand from Nadia's shoulder to her neck and rubbed his thumb gently against her cheek as he kissed her again. There were just sometimes that were more important than pain. Especially love. When the van door opened again, Eric spoke out of the corner of his mouth, "I said get the hell outta here!" 

"Agent Weiss, Nadia, I need to speak with you."

Sloane. Eric's heart stopped in his chest. He swallowed, trying to remove his stomach for his throat and return it to its right location. He vacated Nadia's personal space and allowed her to exit the van. Reluctantly, he followed, wiping at his mouth with his knuckles.

"Is everything okay, father?"

"Agent Weiss, I realize that you have worked with Marcus Dixon at the Rotunda and I understand that the two of you have developed a close relationship with Dixon during your time at APO, but Sydney, Jack, Marshall, and I have known him for quite a bit longer. The hurt for us goes much deeper. And since you two are the center of this dilemma, perhaps it would be best if you were out of the office during the interrogation process. It might help to keep everyone more level headed. And though it goes against my better judgment, Agent Weiss, take my daughter somewhere. And don't tell anyone where you are going. You make her happy and that makes me happy." He pointed to his personal car behind them and indicated that it would take them anywhere they wanted to go.

Eric voiced his appreciation and guided Nadia in the direction of the sedan. "Why do I feel like a high school boy who's been given carte blanche with his girlfriend's father's car? And his daughter for that matter?"

"That's what you focus on? Where should we go? Paris? Rome? Kuala Lumpur?"

"I already have something in mind."

"Where?"

"Why ruin the surprise?"

"Where?"

"I forget."

"Don't you dare pull those tricks with me!"

"But that's what I do best."

"Why do I have a sinking feeling that something's going to happen?" Eric looked back at the van, saw Sydney and Vaughn escorting Dixon out at his own free will, saw Marshall acting relatively tough with the bound Sark.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know. But I feel inacabado>."

"Well, you can forget all your troubles when we're—on the beach?"

"Good try but I'm not telling." He opened the back door and climbed in after her. The heavens finally opened and oversized rain drops spattered against the windows mixing with the dust and dirt already deposited there. As the car drove by, Nadia held up a departing hand to the glass to Sydney who responded with a half grin. The sedan drove on, leaving the scene behind.

Sloane pursed his lips as he watched the fleeting taillights. That was a problem he'd have to deal with later. But, for now, he had to worry with keeping his tracks covered. There were just too many secrets that he couldn't allow escape.

For now.

The end.

* * *

>inacabado—unfinished 


End file.
